


The Trouble with Wanting

by nerdytf84fan



Series: One Star-Crossed Cowboy [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Albert takes care of a wounded Arthur, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Soft boys being soft, gosh these two are so cute together, inspired by Izzy's GORGEOUS art which is linked in the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 07:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17720435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdytf84fan/pseuds/nerdytf84fan
Summary: Arthur is out with Albert Mason on one of his trips to photograph the flora of West Elizabeth when things go south. The outlaw puts his life on the line for Albert, and thankfully the man is prepared for the incident. As he's looked after, Arthur finds himself unable to conceal his feelings for the photographer any longer.





	The Trouble with Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Izzy's beautiful art posted on Tumblr (her two blogs are izzysjunkdrawer and izzymatic-art). It's quite possibly the softest thing I've seen of these two and I couldn't resist writing something to go along with it. 
> 
> You can find the lovely post here: http://izzysjunkdrawer.tumblr.com/post/182642473328/some-random-2am-pics-and-sorry-i-cant-help-but 
> 
> 100/10 would recommend checking out Izzy's magnificent art!

Arthur stood beside Albert and studied the scene he was working incessantly to capture, thankful that the gentleman had chosen a more docile subject for the day. In front of them was a valley of bluebonnets with a backdrop of the Grizzlies’ imposing mountain range. It was a breathtaking view, but Arthur found himself watching the photographer more than the sight before them. A comfortable silence had settled between them, the sounds of nature filling the air instead of words as the photographer fiddled with his camera. Arthur found his eyes wandering to Albert once again, amazed by his ability to capture the beauty of nature at just the right angle with stunning composition. He knew how difficult it could be from his own experience with drawing. Albert had a natural, even keen, eye for it, and he inspired Arthur to try new perspectives and to explore new subjects in his own drawings.

Arthur’s daydreaming was interrupted when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Something was watching them.

He turned, his hand already drawing his revolver, and his eyes widened at the sight of a mountain lion swiftly closing the distance between them. Arthur could tell that the big cat had set its sights on Albert; its teeth bared, and claws extended. Without thinking twice, Arthur shoved the unsuspecting gentleman out of the way and took his place. The cougar pounced and latched onto him without hesitation, its claws raking across his chest as its teeth sank into his shoulder. Arthur stumbled with the weight of it but managed to use the big cat’s momentum to throw it off. As the cougar regained its footing and readied itself for what would be its final attack, the outlaw fired all six rounds from his revolver into its head. The predator collapsed onto the ground, and Arthur tried to catch his breath, realizing it was just short of a miracle to have put down the animal with just a revolver.

Behind him, he heard Albert take a deep, shaky breath followed by the rustling of grass, and Arthur felt surprisingly strong, yet gentle, arms guide him to the ground. He winced and groaned at the movement. Albert was quick to remove the shredded shirt as an intense, fiery pain roared to life and settled in his chest and shoulder. Arthur bit his lip as he tried to hide his pain from the photographer whose worried gaze inspected the deep wounds. It was bad, but Arthur had experienced worse. This was his own fault, and he cursed himself for not seeing the big cat sooner. Arthur had thought he’d felt a pair of eyes on him a while ago, but he had foolishly brushed it off as some riders on the trail nearby. His own mistake, really. They were in mountain lion territory, but he had been so intent on watching the photographer, so utterly distracted by his very presence, that he had slipped up and let his guard down. The worst part, Arthur decided, was that Albert had nearly paid the price for his mistake instead of him.

Arthur closed his eyes, mentally scolding himself for being a complete and utter idiot.

He soon jumped at the unexpected touch of soft fingers on his chest and opened his eyes to see Albert closely examining his bleeding wounds. Arthur’s blue eyes flicked up to Alberts before studying his handsome features for the thousandth time. He had mapped them by now, knowing every contour of his face. It took all Arthur had to contain a shiver elicited by the gentleman’s touch as he grazed his fingers across the skin just beside the claw marks.

“Arthur, you…you saved my life.” He finally said as their eyes met.

Arthur dismissed his comment with a wave of his hand and immediately regretted it as a searing pain radiated through his shoulder. “It was nothing.”

Albert let out a harsh scoff. “Nothing? You could’ve died!”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply with another dismissive comment, but the gentleman was already up and whistling for his horse. The bay Morgan trotted over, his ears pinned back until given a few encouraging words from Albert. It didn’t take much to settle the horse, and Albert was back by Arthur’s side with a roll of bandages, a bottle of antiseptic, and a folded shirt. The outlaw eyed the items.

“What’s all that for?”

“Your wounds, of course!” Albert huffed as he knelt beside him.

“You save those for yourself, ain’t no sense wasting them on me when I’ve got some whiskey in my saddlebag.”

Albert furrowed his brow, his eyes taking on a more piercing look. “Please, using these on you is not a waste. I can always buy more in town. Besides, you’ll need the whiskey for the pain later. Now, let me save your life in turn by helping you.”

Arthur muttered under his breath as he watched the man pour the clear liquid onto the clean shirt. There was no sense in attempting to convince him otherwise. Albert was almost as stubborn as he was. The only difference was that the photographer was kinder about it.

As Albert brought the shirt up to the torn skin, Arthur drew a deep breath and set his jaw. The fire he felt earlier suddenly intensified, turning white-hot and causing him to clench his fists until his knuckles were white. While Arthur didn’t voice it, Albert could tell he was in a lot of pain. It was written all over him. Although he didn’t complain once other than the occasional groan or hitch in his breathing. Albert hated seeing the man in so much pain, and as he did his best to be quick and thorough, he found himself softly whispering words of encouragement to him.

The outlaw was thankful for the small distraction of Albert’s soothing voice. It reminded him of crisp, early spring mornings and basking in the warmth of the sun as it overcomes the chill in the air. It felt like home, and it was a small reprieve from the pain that drenched his brow in sweat.

Arthur was beyond grateful when Albert finally tossed the blood-soaked shirt aside and began unravelling the roll of bandages. Even with his high pain tolerance, the antiseptic on his fresh wounds left him lightheaded. The gentleman began dressing the wound by wrapping the cloth across his chest with one hand keeping it in place against his ribs. Despite the agony he’d endured earlier, it was difficult to keep his mind from lingering on the feel of Albert’s hands against his skin. His heart stumbled over its own rhythm, and he was glad that the photographer had positioned himself behind him to finish with his shoulder and any other scratches on his back. There was a heat rising in his cheeks, and Arthur had no doubt that they had turned a shade darker by now.

He closed his eyes as Albert’s hands moved along his back and shoulders as he unrolled the cloth. There were no words for how safe he felt. Sure, the man hardly knew how to hold a gun, but he did things to Arthur that, once again, he couldn’t find the words to describe. As he felt Albert begin to finish up, he couldn’t help but notice the change in the photographer’s touches. He might’ve been imagining things, but they seemed to linger; his fingers wandering as they traced muscles and exposed scars. This time he couldn’t fight back the shiver that ran down his spine, and he mentally cursed himself for it. He was convinced that Albert didn’t share the same feelings, and he felt a twinge of guilt for how he was responding to the photographer’s care. The man was only doing him a favor, nothing more and nothing less.

The outlaw felt Albert’s hands still, and he tensed. Arthur was sure that the man was, at the very least, repulsed by his response to his kindness. Yet the hand on his uninjured shoulder stayed where it was. Arthur drew a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever was coming. However, the rebuke he was expecting never came. Instead, Albert ran his hand along the muscle and up the base of his neck where he began to massage the tight tendons.

Confusion clouded his mind. Arthur was so sure that Albert was upset with him. Yet the gentle kneading of his muscles continued until he found himself completely relaxed.

This had to be a dream.

But the feeling of his hair being brushed aside, and the soft press of lips against his neck was far too real to be just a dream.

A sigh of content left Arthur, and he felt the gentleman’s lips curve upwards in a smile. When he felt the man get up, Arthur grunted at the loss of his touch and grimaced, the steady throb of his wounds returning to the forefront of his mind. He supported himself with his good arm and watched as Albert brought both of their horses over, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Arthur gladly took it and downed half the bottle in no time.

Albert cocked an eyebrow but said nothing of it as he helped the wounded man to his feet. “Are you well enough to ride? From what little I’ve read about wildlife and surviving in the wilderness, I don’t think it’s wise to stay here.”

“You’re damn right it ain’t safe, and I’ve ridden in far worse states. This should be nothin’.” Arthur replied.

The photographer looked him over regardless and shook his head. “Now that, I have no doubt, but I’m concerned about your wounds opening up as you try to get on your horse.”

“Well, it doesn’t make sense to walk to where we’re going!”

“No,” he chuckled, “in fact, you could probably use that fallen log over there to help you get on.”

They did just that, Albert helping Arthur get some leverage without injuring himself any further. Arthur managed to shrug on a spare shirt of his, and the two of them rode several miles until they reached the town of Strawberry. They hitched their horses in front of the hotel, and Albert helped Arthur off his horse. Once again, he was surprised by the gentleman’s strength as he softened his landing. It may have been nothing to balk at, but it was both impressive and unexpected for a man of his stature. Arthur followed the photographer inside the rustic hotel and Albert gave the clerk a dollar for the room upstairs.

Albert opened the door for him, and Arthur thanked him as he stepped into the room.

“Take your shirt off and lie on the bed, Arthur.” Albert instructed as he set their satchels and bags aside.

Arthur felt a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t know you were so forward, Mr. Mason.”

The timid man became flustered, his face turning bright red. “I- I just need to check your bandages!”

“I know, Al, I’m just joking with you.”

The man lifted his hat off his head and ran a hand through his soft brown waves with a chuckle, clearly embarrassed. “You are simply too much sometimes, Mr. Morgan.” 

Arthur chuckled as he gingerly removed his red button up and retrieved the opened whiskey bottle from his satchel. He downed the rest, set the empty bottle aside on the nightstand, and took a seat on the bed. The outlaw’s features contorted as he lowered himself until his back was against the covers, the pain flaring up in his shoulder. He grunted as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the pillow. Arthur tried to steady his breathing once more. The alcohol had eased his mind and most of the pain, but it was persistent nonetheless. He heard Albert pull a chair up to the side of the bed and he opened his eyes again.

Arthur found himself looking up into the man’s hazel eyes. Albert’s dark locks had fallen forward slightly as he leaned over him, and the outlaw observed that there was so much behind those eyes. They were a deep pool of concern and affection, kindness and sadness, and yet so much more.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur. I’m afraid I’m the one who got you into this mess.” A nervous chuckle then escaped him. “And nearly killed, can’t forget that one.”

“Al,” he said as he reached up to cup his face, “you didn’t do shit. It was my decision to go with you. Sure, I can’t resist your charm, but _I’m_ the dumbass here.”

Albert leaned forward into the touch, a smile gracing his lips as his hand wrapped around Arthur’s forearm. “You have quite a way with words, except you’re sorely wrong. You’re a brilliant, handsome man.”

Arthur felt a warmth bloom in his chest, and he couldn’t help but smile. If anyone else had said those words, he would’ve denied them immediately. But Albert was genuine to his core, and while the man may have been foolish, he certainly meant every word. In that very moment, Arthur found himself believing those words. Strange as it was, he almost felt like he could cry. He didn’t deserve this man’s adoration, and yet here they were. As Albert’s other hand reached to cradle his head, the outlaw’s gaze lowered to the man’s lips. His heart skipped a few beats as Albert leaned in.

When their lips met, it was pure bliss. The contrast of his own rough lips against Albert’s smooth ones was expected as Arthur caught the photographer’s lips between his. Tentatively, Albert sought to deepen the kiss and Arthur allowed him as he parted his mouth. Albert could taste the whiskey that was still fresh on Arthur’s tongue, and Arthur shuddered as he parted to kiss his neck, his tongue and beard pressing against the sensitive skin. A deep chuckle from Arthur made the gentleman pause. He pulled back and eyed him suspiciously, a grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

“What’s so funny?”

“You denied being forward, but you still ain’t checked these bandages yet.” Arthur jested.

Albert’s smile turned sheepish, but Arthur couldn’t help but notice the way it dropped ever so slightly. “You’re just irresistible, Mr. Morgan, and perhaps I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you were willing to…well, you risked your life to save my foolish hide.”

“It was nothing,”

His smile faded completely at the comment. “What you did back there is not something to bat an eye at. You willingly threw yourself at a starving mountain lion. That’s the farthest thing from ‘nothing’ in my book.”

Arthur hummed at the affirmation before pulling him in for another kiss. Albert pulled away sooner than Arthur would’ve liked and straightened himself as he ran a hand along the bandages across his chest. He looked them over with a look Arthur had seen when he analyzed a print for any flaws.

Arthur took hold of the hand after a moment, stopping it in its tracks as he intertwined their fingers. “You’ve done a fine job patching me up, Al. Stop worrying about me.”

“But—”

“I’m fine.” Arthur insisted before patting the space next to him. “Now get over here and rest before I hogtie you.”

 

Arthur slept like the dead until the afternoon sun was shining brightly through the lace curtains. He hadn't been sleeping much as of late, and the incident yesterday had left him completely spent. He was gradually pulled from his sleep by delicate fingers slowly tracing unknown shapes against his skin.

The moment felt ethereal to him. He had tried to convince himself the night before that Albert would surely leave by morning. It had happened to him before, and Arthur wasn’t sure if his heart could handle hoping that this time would be different. He smiled, happy to have been proved wrong, and wrapped his arm around the gentleman and pulled him closer, pressing his lips against his hairline.

“Good morning,” Albert greeted.

Arthur smiled, noticing that the gentleman’s usual optimism had returned to his voice. “Mornin’,”

“How do your wounds feel today?” He asked.

“Better, sore but better.”

“Good, we’ll need to change the dressing.” Albert said as he left his side. Arthur grunted at the loss of his warmth and tender touches, wishing the enjoyable moment had lasted a little while longer. He watched as Albert rummaged through his bag to find his supplies. The photographer threw a small towel over his shoulder, one that Arthur could only assume came from the hotel’s washroom. When Albert returned, he offered him a hand that Arthur gladly took with his good arm and helped him sit up. The movement caused Arthur to grimace as the gashes reminded him of their existence.

Albert’s brow furrowed in concern as he began to unwrap the bandages, and Arthur found himself watching his long fingers work delicately at the cloth. He felt his breath catch as one of Albert’s hands stilled on his now fully exposed chest, his blue eyes flicking up to the man’s face. Arthur found himself grinning at the sight of Albert’s flushed cheeks.

“Like what you see, Mr. Mason?” He teased. Albert’s face turned a shade redder as he fumbled with the antiseptic and towel.

“I—I…well, yes. Yes, I do.” He stammered before flashing a bashful smile. “Now this may sting again…”

“Oh, it’ll do more than sting, but you just focus on what you need to do.”

Albert nodded, and the outlaw braced himself.

While the pain had diminished some, his wounds still burned like fire. It forced Arthur to shut his eyes and ball his fists into the sheets. Albert finished up, and Arthur opened his eyes as he felt the soft touches of his hands as he wrapped the wounds again. This time, he watched Albert’s face, and a smirk twisted his lips at an amusing realization. Even though he couldn’t see the photographer’s face yesterday when he dressed his wounds, Arthur had no doubt that Albert had been equally red in the face.

Albert noticed the mirth in his eyes and chuckled to himself. “I’m very much an open book, aren’t I?”

“It’s charming.” Arthur replied.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” He said as he brought a hand up to cup his face, running his thumb over his cheek. “You know, I was thinking this morning, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me to Saint Denis. I have a speech I’m scheduled to give in two days at the gallery about preserving the fauna of America in the wake of an era of industrialization.” 

Arthur opened his mouth to accept his offer when he felt his stomach sink. It made him feel sick, and it was if the air was sucked out of his lungs. He wanted to go with Albert more than anything, even if it was to an ugly city like Saint Denis. There was no doubt the gentleman would see success at the art gallery, and he longed to be there to witness it. But like a ball and chain, his fidelity to the gang came first and his desire to stay with Albert had to come second. The thought twisted his heart in all kinds of painful directions, and he rose to his feet to look the man in eyes.

His calloused hands came up to hold Albert’s bearded face. Arthur had no doubt that his eyes had already given away his words. “I fiercely wish I could, more than you know, Al. But…” His voice trailed off on its own as he searched for the right words.

“But?” Albert gently encouraged as his hand came up to hold one of Arthur’s.

“I…I told a man in my gang I’d assist him with a job that day. There’s a train coming through, and they’ll need my help.” The words felt heavy as they left his mouth, spilling forth in sentences that felt stiff and forced together. Arthur tried to read Albert’s expression as he processed his words, but the man only nodded and tucked a lock of hair out of Arthur’s face.

“I understand, but if you’re traipsing through Saint Denis, I’m renting a room out of the quaint boarding house by the saloon.” He then gave Arthur a cheeky wink. “A man with your kind of reputation surely knows where that is.”

While the comment pulled a chuckle from his chest, the sincere kindness and understanding in Albert’s eyes only intensified the ache in his heart. This would’ve been easier if Albert had become angry with him. Arthur knew how to deal with anger. He’d been surrounded by it his whole life. But the magnitude of Albert’s graciousness was a rarity in his experience. It stunned him as he tried to wrap his head around it. This man not only had the patience for his flaws but was willing to love him through them. Arthur’s lips pressed together in a hard line as his eyes dropped to the floor, his hands returning to his side as he tried to find the capacity to hold all his conflicting emotions.

Albert tenderly grasped Arthur’s chin and forced his gaze to meet his. “Hey, we’ll see each other again sometime. We always do.”

“Sure, you just stay away from those predators while I’m away.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, the only predators in the city are bankers, politicians, and lawyers, and their bark is thankfully worse than their bite.”

Arthur laughed, and the photographer retrieved his button-up and satchel from the ground before handing him the items.

“I believe these belong to you.” He said.

Arthur gratefully took them and carefully put the shirt on, buttoning it up most of the way before pulling the satchel’s strap over his head and letting it rest on his uninjured shoulder. “Thank you again, Albert. I think we’re just about even now.”

“Just about, but not quite.” Albert said with a glint in his eyes. The outlaw cocked his head, confused and unsure of what he meant. Albert gently grasped his face and pulled him in for a tender kiss. Albert’s arms then wrapped around him in an embrace that Arthur returned. Arthur felt a warmth spread throughout him as his heart rate quickened and their lips glided over one another’s. Arthur’s eyes closed on their own, relishing in this quiet moment between them. He was certain he could stay there in Albert’s embrace for eternity, and it pained him that they were saying goodbye. Arthur hoped the photographer was right about meeting again, and he decided he’d have to make time to visit him in Saint Denis sometime soon.

 


End file.
